


Cas Discovers the Supernatural Books by Carver Edlund

by LapfulofMisha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, Crack!Verse, Destiel - Freeform, Enochian Handcuffs, Hello Kitty pajamas, M/M, This started out as a light fluffy crack fic and then suddenly it became porn, human!Cas, i may add more., injured!cas (I'm sorry), shut up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:58:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapfulofMisha/pseuds/LapfulofMisha
Summary: Cas stays behind when Sam, Dean and Charlie go on a hunt.He checks out the Men of Letters' library in the Bunker.What he finds there is . . . educational.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a total crack!verse drabble. But, as stories sometimes do, it took on a life of its own and here we are. I have taken some liberties with the timeline . . . they haven't met Chuck yet. Otherwise I haven't strayed too far from the show.

Thanks to an untimely fall down the stairs, Cas was stuck in the Bunker while the others were driving to a case. (Keeping his balance without wings was still difficult, even though they didn’t manifest on earth. He had tripped on the spiral staircase while carrying groceries from the car, and Dean’s pie supply splattered all over the ground. Not a good day, for many reasons.)

Which led to his current predicament. He had never told the others how much it bothered him to be alone. But here he was, while Sam, Dean and Charlie were headed for a tiny town situated on the Nebraska/Kansas state line. Apparently, the local cemetery appeared to have

a). become sentient

b). developed a nasty sense of humor and

c). began ejecting tombstones out of the ground and launching them into the air.

 Cas begged to ride along. But they all insisted he stay behind.

“You need to take care of that ankle, Cas. You’re human now.” (Sam)

“This is a great opportunity to watch those Harry Potter DVDs I gave you!” (Charlie)

 “We’ll be there and back before you know it. This is not a case of _grave_ importance.” (Dean, winking, pleased with himself)

(cue Sam throwing a sandwich at Dean).

Charlie had lent Cas her Hello Kitty pajama pants. She told him if he was going to _properly_ hang out in bed, he had to wear pajamas, and he didn’t have any. Secretly, he would have preferred to wear nothing. Clothes were . . . constricting. But he put them on, since the whole human thing was still new to him. Charlie said he looked adorable. She even _squealed_.

Humans were confusing.

The group had left in mid-afternoon, planning to arrive at the cemetery near dark to deal with the flying gravestones. Which left Cas sitting on the bed, flipping through the TV channels. There were soap operas (a stupid name for a show anyway. There were no bars of soap and no opera singers.) There were game shows (obviously all rigged).  There were sitcoms from the early 80’s (those were just confusing). There were talk shows, but none of the discussions interested him (people putting makeup on their pets should probably find a better use of their time). Daytime TV wasn’t cutting it. He thought about watching Charlie’s DVDs, but finally decided he couldn’t stand another minute of the overstimulating screen.

He clicked the TV off and tossed the remote. The pain in his ankle was relentless. He’d taken the pills Dean had given him, but he refused to down the shot of whiskey.

He was currently questioning that decision.

What he _really_ needed, he decided, was something to distract him until the others got back. He was bored. Maybe he could try reading. Sam certainly seemed to enjoy passing time that way. The Men of Letters had accumulated a great many books. There had to be something in the vast library that interested him. 

He reached for the crutches that were laying on the bed beside him. He took the phone off his bedside table and put it in his mouth, since the crutches required both hands. Walking this way was slow and tedious, and the phone tasted like . . . sterile metal. But eventually he made it to the Bunker’s giant library.

Once there, he marveled at the incredible collection the Men of Letters had stashed away over the years. He scanned carefully organized rows of books about religion, paganism, history, psychology, paranormal phenomena, mythology, Egyptology, and geography. There were maps, including old treasure maps and surprisingly accurate surveyors’ maps completed long ago. Books of paintings, biographies, politics, law, anatomy, and trivia sat waiting on shelves. Cas limped along, pausing briefly by the section of books about human reproduction and sexuality.

His friends seemed quite knowledgeable and experienced in this topic, and it seemed to be an important part of their lives. He had little experience with such things, and the encounters he had in the past were not exactly . . . normal. Curious, he balanced on his good leg, using the crutch to support his other leg. He leaned the other crutch against the bookshelf. He took a moment to hike up the Hello Kitty pants that were sliding down his waist before pulling one of the books off the shelf. The book had pictures, and diagrams. He flipped through the pages, stopping at one illustration that seemed to defy both the laws of gravity and human anatomy. He tilted his head to concentrate on the mechanics involved, and wondered what it would feel like to have someone do – well, whatever _that_ was, to his human body.

He would ask Dean about it. He seemed to have the most experience out of the three. 

He returned the book to the shelf and re-situated his crutches. The next books in line were about physics, quantum theory, string theory and cosmology. Humans knew very little about the Universe yet. There would be nothing of interest for an angel who’d once soared among the stars.

He moved on.

His phone lit up. Steven Tyler began singing, You’re my Ange-e-e-ell.

“Hello, Dean.”

“How ya doin’, Limpy?”

Cas frowned. “I’m not limp, Dean, I can-“

“That’s not what I meant! How do you _feel_?”

Putting names to sensations was still confusing. Jimmy had helped him while he was still alive, but feeling sensations as an angel in a vessel was different from feeling sensations as an actual human.

“Um? I feel like I need to urinate.”

Cas heard mumbled swearing on the other end of the connection.

“Your ANKLE, genius, how bad is the pain in your ankle?”

If that was what he wanted to know, why hadn’t he just said so?

Humans. Confusing.

“It’s manageable. How is the case going?”

“Well, I gotta tell ya, this is a new one even for _us_. It seems that everyone buried here – their souls got stuck on the way to wherever they were going. They all sort of melded together into one really big, really _pissed off_ soul. And I don’t mean _The-Gas–Station-Has-No-More-Copies-of-Busty-Asian-Beauties_  pissed off. I mean _The-Gas-Station-Is-Out-Of-_ Pie pissed off. We’re going to have to salt and burn the whole damn thing.”

“So, you’ll be gone longer than you thought?” Cas tried to keep the disappointment and anxiety from his voice. 

“Yeah. Fortunately it’s only about a hundred graves. Small family cemetery sort of thing. You alright, buddy? You sound kinda off.”

“I’m fine. You should get back to work. Goodbye, Dean.”

He put the phone down on the shelf next to him and was considering looking at the romance novels. Sam secretly read those, when Dean wasn’t around and he didn’t know Cas was looking. Charlie practically _absorbed_ them. Maybe he could learn about relationships by reading one of them.

He pulled a small stack off the shelf and looked at them.

_Thrust of Passion_

325 pages of two people having sex.

He figured the book with the diagrams was probably more interesting.

_The Cat’s Meow_

seemed to involve costumes and small animals.

He skipped over that one, too.

_We’ll Stand on the Sun_

How could anyone possibly stand on the sun? The surface was swirling molten plasma.

_I’ll Rock and You Roll_

_425_ pages of people having sex, using various garden vegetables and something called Silly String.

Cas was more confused than ever.

He was about to abandon the Library and try out Harry Potter, when a tall stack of books stuffed in a corner caught his eye. They were well-worn paperbacks, apparently read and discarded. Out of curiosity he grabbed the one on top.

The book was called _Mystery Spot,_ by someone named Carver Edlund.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas reads about Dean's many, many deaths.

Carver Edlund.

He was the one who wrote those Supernatural books. Cas had always meant to ask Sam and Dean about them.

Finally, something interesting to look at. Although reading about things that happened in their past seemed a little . . . invasive. And Sam and Dean didn’t approve of the existence of the books, he knew. 

He decided to take the book back to his room anyway and read it. He knew very little about the cases the brothers had been on before he met them. The opportunity to learn more about Dean was irresistible. He situated the book under his arm, put his phone back in his mouth, and grabbed the crutches. He had momentarily forgotten about his sore ankle, he realized.

Back in his room, he leaned the crutches against the wall and carefully tossed the phone onto the bed. Once he was snuggled warmly under the covers, ankle resting on a pillow, Charlie’s Hello Kitty pants readjusted to keep them from delving into certain parts of his anatomy, he opened the book and began reading.

Apparently, Sam and Dean had found a case involving a mysterious tourist attraction where the laws of physics didn’t exist.

_Well, obviously_ that _can’t happen_ , Cas scoffed. _Just because humans don’t_ understand _the laws of physics doesn’t mean they don’t exist._

He read on, frowning, eyebrows knitted together.

_What is this Mystery Spot? Question marks on the wall? Tables nailed to ceilings? A bad rendering of a shark head coming out of the wall?  Does this kind of thing_ actually _capture humans’ interest? Apparently people pay_ actual money _to go there?_

Suddenly Cas sat bolt upright in bed. 

_What? Wait, what? Why did he shoot Dean? I had no idea he died_ before _he died and went to Hell!!!_

Cas read on, turning the pages quickly. He tilted his head as he continued the story.

_It was all Sam’s dream? Weird plot . . . this is obviously a case of a causal loop. Hmm. Sam seems annoyed by Dean’s prolonged attention to dental hygiene. Is Dean . . . trying to annoy Sam by gurgling so long?_

_I need to find out what this Pig in a Poke is. It seems to make Dean very happy . . . Dean!!!!_

_That man should not be driving a car._

_The Heat of the Moment. I wonder what caused one moment to be hotter than the others._

Cas relaxed a little. All of this was obviously taking place in a time loop outside of the space-time continuum, and therefore outside of reality. None of it actually happened, theoretically. And obviously Dean was safe, and Sam was no longer having this recurring dream. But what was causing Sam to keep reliving Tuesdays? Surely not the place with the upside-down furniture.

He continued reading.

_So Dean gets tingly when someone else takes control. I'll have to remember that._

_For professional movers, it seems odd they wouldn’t have measured the opening of the building to see if the desk would fit into it._

_Listen to Sam! You can’t go back there, Dean!_ Cas shook his head. Dean was too stubborn for his own good. _Oh! That’s a horrible way to die. Poor Sam, having to watch that._

He peeked at the page number of the last page. Man, this was a long book. He continued reading.

_Hmm. Always that song. . . What is Groundhog Day? What do_ groundhogs _have to do with_ time loops _?_

_This Carver Edlund guy needs to learn how blood_ actually splatters _._

_Why would Sam keep a ruler by his bed?_ He would have to remember to ask him later.

_Why would anyone put on a furry bunny outfit? Wouldn’t that be . . .itchy?_

Cas went on, chapter after chapter. Death by shower. Death by electrocution. Death by taco. Death by dog.

Death by hot sauce. Death by phone charger. Death by pillow. Death by meteor shower.

Death by Sam’s hair.

Death by the restaurant guy's furry bunny outfit.

Cas read each chapter, finally coming to the confrontation with the trickster.

Who wasn’t a trickster.

_Gabriel! Brother! Why would you do that to Sammy?_

_And why would you drop someone into a wormhole?_

_And when did you start eating_ pancakes _?_

He read on through the rest of the story.

He was almost to the last page when the door opened. Dean walked in with a pizza and a six pack of beer.

“Man, were those spirits _pissed_. Sammy almost got hit with a flying tombstone. Charlie saved him by sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell on his butt and the tombstone went over his head. Dude. It was _awesome_.”

He sat down on the bed next to Cas, already sticking a slice of pizza in his mouth.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Cas looked at Dean sheepishly as Dean looked at the cover of the book in Cas’s hands. A look of absolute horror spread across his face.

“Mystery Spot? Really? _Really_?”


	3. Charlie gets involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas reads Tall Tales. Charlie looks over his shoulder and commentates. Dean regrets his life choices.

“Cas what the _hell_? I mean, really man, what the hell? Why are you reading that crap? There’s perfectly good porn in my bedroom.” Dean tried to look pissed off as he took a drink of his beer. But secretly he found it kind of endearing that Cas wanted to read the books. And it was hard to be mad at Cas while he was wearing Hello Kitty pajama pants.

Cas looked at him sheepishly. “This was actually a pretty interesting book, Dean. I’m looking forward to reading more of them. Give me some pizza, my stomach is making that strange noise again and I want it to stop.”

Dean handed him a slice of pizza and a beer. “You seriously intend to read more of those.” His eyes widened as he remembered the book where he was described, full frontal, in great detail. The description hadn’t been exactly flattering. Or accurate. Oops, and there was the time he screamed like a dying pig when he saw the cat in the locker. There were certain things he just didn’t want Cas to read.

Cas pulled a mushroom off his pizza and frowned at it. “Why is _this_ on here?” he asked.

Dean ignored him. “Uh, listen, Cas, if you’re dead set on reading those books, why don’t I stick around and, uh, narrate.”

“Really, Dean? I’d like that. Why don’t I go pick out another one.”

“No, no, no! I’ll do it. Actually, let’s wait until tomorrow. It’s been a long day. Here, have some more pizza.”

***

The next morning, Cas dressed quickly (hoping to avoid anymore of Charlie’s wardrobe selections). He hobbled out to the library, to the section where the Carver Edlund books were stashed. He found one called “Tall Tales.”

He grabbed it and went to the kitchen to get some coffee and find some fruit for breakfast.

It wasn’t long before Dean came wandering out in his robe, yawning. Secretly Dean hoped Cas would forget his promise. He saw the novel resting on the table and groaned inwardly. He should have known that was a pipe dream.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“Morning, sunshine.” Maybe he could distract him.

Cas beamed like actual sunshine. “I found the next one I want to read.” He held up the book.

Just then, Charlie wandered in. “What’s up, guys?”

“Dean and I are going to read one of Carver Edlund’s novels.”

“Woah, woah, wait a minute. I need to wash Baby, and uh, make a grocery run, and uh, do the laundry.” Dean tried his best to look disappointed.

Sam stood in the doorway, an innocent look on his face. “I can take care of those things for you, Dean.”

“Dude, the last time you did my laundry, I couldn’t find my socks for days. I had to wear Charlie’s, and all of hers are pink. _Pink_ , Sam.”

“So I won’t wash your socks. Look, Cas has got to be bored to tears. He could use some company.”

“Sam’s right,” Charlie said. “Besides, I’d kind of like to hear the stories too. My muscles are too sore to do much of anything else. We can get Cas situated in bed and hang out together!”

Dean closed his eyes. This was going from bad to worse. Yet, some part of him was drawn to the idea of being with Cas on the bed. He hoped to hell Sam never found out about _that_. Hell, he probably already knew.

Dean sighed.  “All right, all right, let me get dressed and eat breakfast first.” He carefully ignored Sam’s gleeful grin.

***

The three of them were sitting on Cas’s bed. Cas was in the middle, with his ankle on a pillow and the book in his hand. Charlie was on his right, curled up next to him. Dean sat on his left, drinking a beer. So what if it was ten in the morning.

Cas started reading out loud.

“Tall Tales,” he began.

“Hmm, a haunted building. So many souls lose their way.” (Cas shook his head). He continued reading.

“Purple . . . nurples?” Charlie asked Dean, grinning.

“Look,” Dean said defensively. “This girl was buying me drinks, okay?”

Cas and Charlie shared a knowing look.

A few minutes later, “Wait . . . were you both talking about the same girl? How could you each perceive her so differently?”

“More importantly,” added Charlie deviously, “was she classy hot or dirty hot? This is important to me.”

Dean couldn’t believe he’d gotten himself into this mess.

Cas continued.

“Well, Sam does tend to talk that way in certain situations. But why would he say the word ‘blah’ that many times? Is that some form of human communication that I’m not aware of?”

“No,” Dean snapped, “that’s Sam being a little bitch.” He looked at their questioning faces and added, “I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

A moment or two later, Cas stopped reading and raised an eyebrow. “Wow, Dean, you can fit a lot in your mouth,” he said innocently. Charlie snorted orange juice through her nostrils. Dean choked on his beer while his face blushed seventeen consecutive shades of red.

Cas looked back and forth between the two of them, thinking how odd it was that they should choke at the same time.

He read on.

“Aliens? There are no aliens in _this_ dimension.” Cas mumbled to himself.

“Wait, _what_?” Dean asked.

Cas looked at him. “You wash your socks in the sink? Is that how you keep from losing them?”

Dean rolled his eyes.

Charlie snuggled harder into Cas, reading over his shoulder. “How could an alligator scale get into a dismembered leg?” she asked, fascinated.

“There were alligators in the sewer. Be careful what you flush.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

Cas kept reading. A few moments later, he gave Dean his I-know-you-can’t-be-serious look. “I don’t think a Haunted Campus Alien Abduction Alligator In The Sewer Gig is a common occurrence.”

“Oooh, I pity the person who let the air out of your tires,” Charlie added a moment later.

Dean left to get another beer.  Charlie watched him walk out of the room. “Do you think this is upsetting Dean, reading about these old cases?”

Cas considered. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t normally drink beer this early in the morning. But I think he likes his down time occasionally, although he would never admit it. And I think he likes spending time with you.”

Charlie laughed. “I’m sure he does. But it’s _you_ he’s been looking at like he wants to gobble you up.”

“You think he wants to _eat_ me?" he asked, mortified.

“Sweetie, you have no idea,” she said.

Dean walked back into the room with his beer. Cas was gaping at him and Charlie was snickering.

“All right, whatever you boneheads were talking about, just keep it to yourselves.”

Dean sat back on the bed, closer to Cas than what was probably necessary. Charlie smirked.

Cas picked the book up out of his lap and started reading again. “I don’t think a human spine would be able to bend enough to actually insert your head into your ass,” he commented absently.

“Oooh, red silk boxer shorts.” Charlie looked pointedly at Cas. “Those sound really comfortable. I should find you some next time we go shopping. Don’t you agree, Dean?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, uh, they’d be more . . . manly than, uh, Hello Kitty pajama pants.” He most definitely was _not_ imagining Cas in red boxers. He was _especially_ not imagining Cas in red boxers with a messy mass of sex hair and blue eyes dark with passion. Nope. Not thinking that at all.

“I don’t understand why someone would use a chainsaw to try and kill people. It’s noisy and awkward to carry.”

“Thanks, Cas, for that. A chainsaw is scary as _fuck_ when someone’s coming after you with one. That’s why someone would use it.”

“Why did it break Bobby’s heart that Sam and you apologized to each other? I think it was sweet, how you were all shy and stuff,” Charlie said.

“All right, all right, enough. Story’s over, can we just get on with our day now? I have to make sure Sam isn’t hiding my socks. Dean got up, glancing guiltily at Cas (and definitely not thinking about red silk boxers).

“This was very enjoyable. Let’s do it again tomorrow.” Cas looked up at Dean hopefully.

Before Dean could protest, Charlie grinned. “I get to pick the book next time.”

 

 

 

 


	4. Enochian Handcuff Porn. (There's a little bit of plot too.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean decides to keep Cas from reading any more of the books.   
> Even if it requires drastic measures.   
> (I don't consider this non-con, it's fluffy, but if that's something that triggers you, make your own decision about whether or not to skip this chapter.)

Dean quickly escaped to the Bunker’s garage and the safety of washing Baby.   _What the hell just happened?_ he thought. _Why didn’t I burn those fucking books when I had the chance? And how the hell did_ Cas _find them?_

Cas reading about his life . . . it was just weird. It made him self-conscious. And he didn’t know why. Cas was just, well . . . _Cas_. There was no reason in the world for Dean to care what Cas thought.

 _Yeah,_ he thought. _You keep telling yourself that._  

Dean gently washed the Impala’s hood. There had been countless hookups in his life. Countless. Mostly women, but occasionally he’d gotten it on with a dude. Sammy didn’t know. Dean knew he wouldn’t _care,_ but Dean wasn't exactly out of the closet. And his hookups were generally just that - one nighters.

There had been one hookup that mattered. And that hadn’t ended well. He’d almost gotten them killed. He didn’t _deserve_ a relationship.

He wanted one, though. He wanted to have someone to come home to. Or better yet, to come home _with._ Someone who understood him.

He wanted that person to be Cas. His best friend. He was so fucked. 

_He was so._

_F_ _ucked._

He knew Cas was . . . experienced. And it hadn’t ended well for him, either. But it wasn’t just about sex. 

Although he had to admit, Cas was his type. Tall, black hair, blue eyes, muscular, intelligent, and knowledgeable of the lifestyle.              

Cas was _hot._  

And Dean wanted him. He wanted to fuck him into next _Thursday_.  

Fuck, he _needed_  him.

Sighing, Dean moved on to cleaning Baby’s windshield.

***********       

Charlie was in her room writing Black Widow fan-fiction, and Sam was on a grocery run (using a motorcycle from the Bunker’s garage). Dean was washing the car. Cas was bored. Being alone in the Bunker had been kind of liberating. Being alone while everyone else was busy with normal things made him feel like he was freeloading.    

He decided to find another book. Reading kept his mind busy, at least, and gave him something to look at besides the walls. He slowly made his way to the Bunker’s library.

The top book on the pile of Carver Edlund’s works was called Bedtime Stories. Cas was tempted to grab the entire collection, for the sake of saving himself some trips. But there was no way to carry that many books while walking on crutches. He satisfied himself with just the one.

He made his way back and shut the door to his room, feeling like a spy. He’d enjoyed reading with Charlie. She was . . . soft. And warm, and funny. And having Dean with him made him feel . . . complete. He could easily imagine Dean in bed with him on a regular basis.

He shook his head and clambered up onto the bed. The others were busy. It was getting late. Earlier, he had found leftover pizza in the fridge and eaten it cold. Eating was occasionally enjoyable, but mostly it was a nuisance.

He settled himself into the bed, crawling under the covers. He flipped through the book’s pages and saw something about a large and disturbing teddy bear. This should be a good one.

Suddenly the door burst open and Dean came barreling through.

“Cas I can’t let you do it!”            

Cas looked up in astonishment. 

“Do what?” 

“I can’t let you read those _books_. If there’s something you want to know about me, you _ask_. If you want to know about a past case, you _ask_.”  

“But how will I know what to ask if I don’t know what the cases were about?”

Dean glowered at him. Cas’s hair was perfectly disheveled, as always, and his face had a day’s worth of stubble. His long and graceful fingers wrapped around the book, and Dean had no trouble at all imagining them wrapped around something else. Dean wasn’t all that surprised to realize he missed seeing Cas in Charlie’s Hello Kitty pants. Grrr. He needed to get his mind back on the subject of getting the book away from Cas.

He had a little something up his sleeve. And a little something in his back pocket. 

“Sam saw you head in here with one of them. Give me the book, Cas. Or there will be consequences.” 

“No. I have nothing else to do while I’m laid up. At least I can learn something about hunting.”

Dean moved closer to the bed until he was standing right next to Cas.

"Cas. Give. Me. The book.”

Cas stuck the book under the covers.

“I will _not_ , Dean. What would you have me do? Stare at the walls?” Cas stared at him, blue eyes blazing.  “I’m bored. My ankle hurts. I don’t like being alone so much. The books keep me company.”

“Welcome to being human, Cas.” Dean reached for the covers to grab the book.

“Dean!” Cas, with a surprising amount of strength, grabbed Dean by the shirt and rolled him over onto the bed. He landed on the blankets with a thump.

“Is that how you want to play it?” Dean asked.

“You’re not getting the book.”

“I thought you might say that.” He shook his head. “That’s why I came prepared.”

Dean reached into his back pocket and pulled out Enochian handcuffs. He dangled them in the air and raised his eyebrows.

Cas scoffed. “You know those won’t work on me anymore.”

“Oh, I think they’d hold you.”

“Sam taught me how to get out of handcuffs.”

“Really?” Dean blinked. “Hmm. I have to say I’m kind of sorry I missed that.”

“Why?” Cas asked.

Dean rolled his eyes. He stared at Cas and shook his head. “Seriously, dude. Hand over the book. Just, it’s not that big of a deal. Just give it to me.”

Cas steeled himself, squinting his eyes. “Come and get it.”

Dean raised his eyebrows at the invitation, then suddenly rolled over and pinned Cas to the bed by his shoulders. Cas was trapped under the covers. He wiggled his arms free from the blankets and grabbed Dean’s wrists. With lightning speed Dean twisted his arms, releasing his wrists from Cas’s grip. He grabbed both of Cas’s wrists and pinned him with one hand, then cuffed him to the bed post with the other.

Cas pulled against the cuffs in surprise. “What are you doing?”

Dean grinned down at him. “Taking your book.”

Cas struggled briefly against the cuffs as Dean sat up and straddled him.

“Taking the book will be difficult while you're sitting on me.”

Dean looked down at him, not hearing what he said. He was mesmerized by Cas’s lips. His deep, _deep_ blue eyes, eyes the color of the wildest oceans. He leaned down closer to Cas’s face, slowly, resting his elbows outside of Cas's shoulders. This sudden intimacy was intoxicating. Having Cas all to himself. It was heavenly. He could die right here, right now, and be at peace and completely happy.

“Dean? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” Dean whispered.

Cas’s eyes dropped to Dean’s lips.

Surprising himself with his own boldness, he said, “I’m gonna kiss you, Cas, okay?”  

“Really? I’ve been wanting to do that with you but I wasn’t sure if you-“

Dean cut him off by pressing their lips together. Cas gasped and writhed a bit under Dean. Dean ground down onto Cas, kissing him harder and licking into his mouth. As Dean’s experienced mouth moved over Cas’s, Cas moaned around Dean’s tongue. Dean could feel Cas’s boner even through the blanket that was between them. He felt his own body reacting, and he suddenly needed to be skin on skin with Cas.

After a moment Dean pulled away from Cas’s hot breath, his deep kisses. He looked up, confused as to why Dean stopped. Dean slid off him and ripped the covers from between them. He had them both undressed from the waist down in such a short amount of time, it was probably a World Record, especially since he had to work around a bandaged ankle.  

“I didn’t have the book in my jeans, Dean.”

 “Fuck the damn book,” Dean said gruffly.

 “Then why are the cuffs still necessary?”

 “Do you want them off?”

 Cas shrugged. “Not really.”

 “You tell me if you change your mind about that,” he murmured. He slid down next to Cas, his mouth going for Cas’s neck this time. He sucked gently on the warm skin. The smell of Cas, the heat of him, the taste of him, it was too much. He was going insane. His hand traced the sharp cheekbones and caressed down the other side of his neck, then slid its way down to his hipbones. _Fuck_ the guy was like a Greek statue. His fingers slid across Cas’s pelvis, across the wiry black hairs. Cas yanked on the handcuffs.

 “That _tickles_!” he yelped.  

 Dean grinned as he moved to once again straddle Cas. This time his fingertips slid under Cas’s balls, and gently lifted them as he stroked them with his other hand.

 “Dean, that's, uh, keep doing that."

 He licked his thumb (and it occurred to him that he might need to stash some lube in Cas’s room).  He then proceeded to wrap his fingers around Cas’s cock. He squeezed rhythmically, then slid his wet thumb up to the tip. He caressed him gently while Cas pressed his head back into the pillow, pulling the cuffs’ chains taut against the bed post.

 “Dean! Don’t tease. Just do it.”

 “What am I, the Nike Swoosh?” he joked. Looking at Cas he was surprised to see the fire and longing and _centuries_ of built-up passion that had always filled his eyes when he was an angel. He almost came all over both of them, right then, just from the way Cas looked at him.

 “Time to get serious,” he mumbled.

 Licking his hand ( _he was soooo putting lube in Cas’s bedside drawer_ ) he grabbed Cas again, this time going up and down, squeezing gently. His other hand unbuttoned Cas’s shirt and wandered onto his nipple. Cas gasped as Dean gently stroked over the top of it, back and forth. His other hand never lost the rhythm as he slid off to Cas’s side, leaned down and started sucking the tip of his nipple.

 “Dean! _Dean!”_

 He stroked him faster and faster, his tongue licking and flicking and toying with Cas’s nipple, until Cas screamed his name. Dean felt thick warm liquid running down his hand. Grinning, he looked up at Cas’s face. His eyes were closed and he looked more relaxed than Dean had ever seen him. Best of all, he was moaning.

 “Boy does the afterglow look good on you,” he said.

 Reaching down with his cum-covered hand, he started working on himself.

 Cas’s eyes opened and he watched as Dean stroked himself the same way he had done to him.

 “Dean, stop.”

 “What?”

 “Uncuff me. It’s my turn. I want to do that for you.”

 Grinning, he reached for the key that was in his shirt pocket. He had completely forgotten he was still _wearing_ a shirt. He uncuffed Cas, then sat back, unsure of what exactly Cas wanted to do for him. He was down for anything, truth be told.

 Cas rubbed his wrists, then grabbed some tissues and wiped himself off.

 “Time to get you out of that shirt.”

 He wrapped his legs around Dean and began unbuttoning his shirt. Dean was frozen. Cas’s face was so close to his, he could feel his breath. Cas’s long, graceful fingers delicately worked each button, and Dean was afraid he might actually die if Cas didn’t touch him _right now_. Even so, he couldn’t help it.

 “God, I’m about to be _touched by an angel_ ,” he blurted.

 Cas reached for him. _Finally_.

 “I’m no longer an-“

 “Don’t even say it, Cas. You’ll always be an angel to me.”

 Cas smiled. “Thank you, Dean.”

 Dean blushed. “Fuck, would you just get me off before I embarrass myself any further? I’m probably gonna cum in rainbow colors after this whole thing.”

 Cas, still smiling, stroked him. He caressed Dean’s stubbled face and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean’s hands went into Cas’s hair, pulling gently.

 There was no way he was going to last when their bodies were wrapped around each other this way. Dean wasn’t normally much of a screamer, but fuck.

  _Fuck._

 He did not, in fact, cum in rainbow colors, although Cas now needed to clean himself off again.

 Cas’s face suddenly became very serious as he was disentangling his legs from Dean.

 “What’s the matter? Did you hurt your ankle?”

 "No." Cas reached down and pulled the book out from under him. He held it up, looking at it like he’d never seen it before.

 “Here.” He held it out to Dean. “I believe you wanted this book.”

 Dean grabbed the book and threw it over his shoulder. He was about to push Cas into the bed for another go.  He had just grabbed the blankets when the door flew open and Charlie came rushing in, wielding a butcher knife.

 “Is everything okay in here? I heard screaming.”

 She looked around, her eyes taking in the two naked men on the bed, the handcuffs, the wadded up tissues, clothes strewn all over the bed and the floor . . .

 “Oh my God I knew it! I knew it!” she squealed. Her face sobered up instantly. “Oh, God, you weren’t done. Oh God. Oh God.”

 “Charlie!” Dean said. “It’s fine. Really. Just, uh, don’t tell Sam yet, okay? I need to see the look on his face when he finds out I banged the hottest dude on the planet.”

 “I won’t say a word. But I want to be there when you tell him. Oh, and also? Ew. _Ew._ ”

 


End file.
